Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Wednesday, 9 August 2017

Hump Day Canadian Prairie Poetry



Charlotte the Harlot

Way down on the prairie where cow plop is thick,
Where women are women and cowpokes cum quick;
There lived pretty Charlotte, the girl we adore,
The pride of the prairie, the cowpunchers' whore.

Cho:    It's Charlotte the harlot,
        The girl we adore,
        The pride of the prairie,
        The cowpunchers' whore.

She's dirty, she's vulgar, she spits in the street,
Why whenever you see her, she's always in heat.
She'll lay fur a dollar, take less or take more,
The pride of the prairie, the cowpunchers' whore.

One day in the canyon, no pants on her quim,
A rattlesnake saw her and flung himself in,
Charlotte the harlot gave cowboys the frights,
The only vagina that rattles and bites.

One day on the prairie, while riding along,
My seat in the saddle, the reins on my dong,
Who should I meet but the girl I adore
The pride of the prairie, the cowpunchers' whore.

I got off my pony, I reached for her crack,
The damn thing was rattling and biting me back
I took out my pistol; I aimed for its head
I missed the damned rattler and shot her instead.

Her funeral procession was forty miles long,
With a chorus of cowpunchers singing this song:
"Here lies a young maiden who never kept score
The pride of the prairie, the cowpunchers' whore."

From The Whorehouse Bells were Ringing, Logsdon
RG


The wife and I were watching a show last night where one of the characters was singing a snippet of this and I originally thought it was your typical filthy irish limerick but when I looked it up on the internet it seems to be a North American creation.

Genius flourishes everywhere!

No comments:

Post a Comment